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“James?” Michael waved a hand in front of his face.
“Yes?” He placed down the papers in front of him.
“Ha! You are in a state. Did you hear anything I said?”
“Of course, I did.” James lied but pretended to show little interest as he stood to his feet. “How many customers did we have last night?”
“Many, too many. We’ll have to expand if it continues like this.” Michael followed him as James walked out of the office and toward the corridor that led to the gambling hall. Stepping through the door, he leaned on a nearby archway, his eyes dancing over the early customers.
It was still just the afternoon, but many men had arrived, impatient to begin their addiction for the day.
“I swear I do not understand it,” he observed, shaking his head. “Would these men not rather be somewhere else than here, giving us their money?”
“Don’t complain about it,” Michael said with a chuckle. “It’s what pays our bills and keeps us in good stead.”
“I know, it just…” James’ eyes danced around the room. “It baffles me.” His gaze darted from one man who was begging a serving boy to bring him another whisky, even though there were three empty glasses beside him already, to another young man who leaned so far forward on the card table, he was practically not sitting down at all.
“Well, sometimes people develop a liking for things they didn’t expect to, wouldn’t you say?” There was a teasing tone in Michael’s voice that had James glancing his way. “I could point out your attachment to your wife again –”
“I already understood the hint.” James smiled and shook his head at his teasing friend. “Yes, I take your point. Maybe sometimes our likings do surprise us.”
He had a plan to make Marina smile. It had to be difficult staying in the house all the time. He was hoping to take her out during the weekend, perhaps to Somerset Gallery after all, but only if he could hire the place privately for a few hours. He would have to pull in a few favors from some contacts to obtain such a feat, but fortunately, one of the curators of the collection was a regular at the gambling hall.
“Ho, what’s this?” Michael asked, drawing James’ attention away from his thoughts and into the gambling hall. Across the room and in the open doorway, a boy ran in. In scruffy clothes, he did not look right in the gambling hall.
He was frantic, his face flushed red as if he had been running, and he turned his head back and forth, seeking someone out.
“Pickpocket boys coming in now?” Michael said, stepping away. “I’ll send him on his way.”
“Wait, don’t.” James reached out and took Michael’s shoulder, stopping him from going any further. The closer the boy got, the more James recognized him. “It’s my stable boy.”
“Your Grace, Your Grace!” The boy stumbled over one of the chair legs nearby and nearly went flying in his effort to reach James. To save the boy, James leapt forward, managing to catch him under the arms and set him on his feet again.
“Careful lad; you’ll do yourself an injury.” James looked up and had to hold in his smile when he saw the chair leg the boy had tripped over belonged to the man who had been consuming himself with drinking whisky. His latest whisky was now dripping down his cheeks, thanks to the collision.
“I was asked to give you this. It’s an emergency, Your Grace.” The boy delved a hand into a pocket, looking panicked when he couldn’t find what he was looking for, then he reached for a second pocket and pulled out a sealed envelope that he passed over.
James took the envelope and broke it open, his eyes shooting down to see the name of Mr. Pitt-Rivers at the bottom of the letter.
‘Your Grace, you must come home at once. The Duchess attempted a journey in the carriage this morning to see a friend and was attacked on the road. She is well, but her jewels have been taken, and I have called for a doctor to see her. The assailant, I’m afraid, has escaped.
I beg you, return as soon as you can.’
“Michael, you’re in charge of the gambling hall.” James ran so quickly out of the hall that the boy could not keep up, and Michael’s shouting to ask what was wrong could not slow him down.
* * *
James burst through the door of the house, making it ricochet off the wall. Mr. Pitt-Rivers, who was standing in the sitting room doorway, jumped at the loud sound and nearly dropped the silver tray in his hand. James muttered a hurried apology before the butler nodded his head into the sitting room.
“Your wife is in there, Your Grace. I am just taking the tea away. The doctor says she will be quite fine.”
“Thank you.” James was glad to step past Mr. Pitt-Rivers into the room and close the door behind him. The door shut with a heavy thud as he turned his eyes on Marina.
She was sitting up on a chaise longue, a hand playing near her throat. At the loud sound, she jerked her head toward him, her eyes wide.
James froze. This look of panic wasn’t something he had known before. He felt it as if it crippled him, like a wound in his chest, as he stared at the bruises on Marina’s throat.
That bastard… he grabbed her by the throat.
